


So Beautiful, Even in Death

by Anath_Tsurugi



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Author has a bit of an unfortunate thing for seeing Bucky suffer, Brainwashing, Established Relationship, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anath_Tsurugi/pseuds/Anath_Tsurugi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes didn't become the Winter Soldier overnight. What was it that Zola did to ultimately break him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Beautiful, Even in Death

**Author's Note:**

> Well, m'dears, have some more Starbuck…and of course, my own special blend of Bucky torture.

At first, all Bucky knew was pain. Every atom of his being was an unending scream of agony. Was this death? Was he in hell? Was this to be his eternal fate? The pain didn't leave him much mental faculty to really think about what was happening to him. At first, he was just praying for it all to stop, and he was granted his wish in a twisted sort of way. The pain was replaced by cold – a bone-deep, soul-piercing frost that took the place of his pain. He didn't truly feel the hands that pulled him from the cold, but he knew they were there.

_Why aren't I dead?_ he struggled to ask them, only he couldn't make his mouth work. All he had as he slipped into darkness was that tiny kernel of certainty – the knowledge that he was still alive.

_Why am I not dead?_ _Why am I not dead?_

Over and over the question repeated in his heart. There was no pain or cold anymore, only the darkness…and the need to know how he was still alive.

"What? Would you _rather_ be dead, you jerk?"he suddenly hears Steve asking him. Then he feels the familiarity of their bed back in Brooklyn. It isn't exactly soft, but it's still home. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds he really _is_ home, home in their apartment, and Steve is there with him, sitting beside him on the bed. They don't quite fit the way they used to, though…since Steve's so much bigger now.

"Is this a dream?" he can't help asking as he reaches up to touch Steve's face. America's golden boy smiles down at him, turning his head to the side to kiss his palm.

"Does it matter? You need me, don't you?"

"Stupid punk. I've always needed you," he says, grinning in spite of his exhaustion.

"This is different," Steve says, looking away from him, eyes hazy with worry. "I'm not sure how long it'll be."

"Until what?"

"Until I can save you."

Bucky manages a small chuckle at this. "Steve, you've already saved me. You made my life worth living. You don't need to do anything else. Go on…save the world. I can take care of myself."

"Really?" Steve asks, clasping his hand tightly in his as he sits up.

"Hey, if I can take whatever just happened to me and still get up, I think I've got this handled. Don't worry about me," he says, reassuring him…even though he thinks it was supposed to be the other way around.

"James," Steve starts, the use of his real name telling him the former squirt really means what he's saying. "Just…promise you'll hold on…no matter what happens. Promise me you won't give up."

"I promise," he returns softly, even though he has no idea why Steve would need such a promise from him.

"And don't forget that I'll always love you."

"I'll always love you, too," he returns, squeezing Steve's hand affectionately. But just as he presses his lips against his lover's for a tender kiss…he suddenly found himself blinking awake beneath a bank of harsh fluorescent lights.

Upon turning away from the unpleasant brightness, he slowly started to become more aware of himself. He was lying on some sort of surgical table…strapped down. He could feel the hard leather of the straps and the cold metal of the table against his bare skin. The room around him was stark and white – very different from the last lab he'd been imprisoned in.

That thought instantly snapped him back to a place he didn't want to go: a place of needles, torture, fire and ice in his veins…a place of nightmare. He was soon snapped back into the present, though, by a horrifyingly familiar voice.

"Ah, you are finally awake, I see. Good," the heavily accented voice of Dr. Arnim Zola spoke from somewhere above him. No matter how much he twisted and struggled against the straps holding him, he just couldn't get a glimpse of his tormentor.

" _Zola!_ " he snarled. Where was he? Couldn't see him… _had_ to!

"Ah, ah, ah, ah. Mustn't struggle," the scientist chastised him as he finally came into view above him. "You will only do further damage to yourself…and we cannot have that," he said, drawing Bucky's gaze down to his left arm.

Only when he saw what bad shape the limb was in did Bucky realize he couldn't feel it. The arm was completely numb. He had no control over it and even if he did, he didn't think he'd be _able_ to move it. The elbow was bent at an unnatural angle and the wrist seemed to be completely shattered. The fingers weren't truly recognizable as fingers anymore and the skin and muscle were pierced through in many places, even down to the bone.

"Not a pretty sight, is it," the Nazi tutted as he moved about the space. "If you can believe it, most of you looked like that when we fished you out of the river. You've healed remarkably well. A true credit to my initial line of experimentation, I would say. All except this arm…but that's no matter. An issue easy enough to resolve."

"What're you…talkin' about?" he mumbled, head still hazy from the shock of it all.

"I _told_ you you were special, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. You survived when others did not, and yet again, you survived when you should not have. I look forward to seeing what you will become."

"What…what happened?" he struggled to ask, fighting to remember past the pain of the fall. There had been a mission…hadn't there? "The river…train…you escaped?"

"Something of that nature, yes," he answered. Bucky couldn't see what he was doing, but when the doctor was back at his side again, there was a needle in his hand. Again Bucky struggled against his restraints, and again he failed.

"Don't you fucking come near me with that!" he snarled.

"I told you before, little one, no struggling. It will do you no good," he said, sneering down at him as he pushed the needle into his useless arm. He couldn't feel it, but that meant nothing. It was no less of a violation.

Turning away from Zola, Bucky made himself ask, "What happened to…the captain…and the others? Where are they?" Where was Steve? Was he all right?

"To be quite honest, I have no idea. Probably off somewhere planning another grand raid against their German enemies. I imagine they've quite forgotten about you."

"That's not true," Bucky snapped, still not looking at his captor. Whatever drug Zola had introduced was already starting to take effect. The haziness from before was returning.

"Then why have they not come to rescue their dear comrade?" he pointed out.

"Why…would they?" he asked, even though he couldn't deny the small flicker of pain in his heart at the insinuation. "I _should_ be dead. No one will come for me," he admitted, more to himself than to Zola…but even so…Steve had come for him before when he should have been dead…and that thought lit a fire in his brain, a fire he had no intention of allowing to die.

"You had better get used to that line of thinking," Zola informed him as he attached several electrodes to his body. "The life you knew is over. You belong to me now, just as you should have from the beginning…and you will be the new face of HYDRA."

Then there was only pain.

XxX

_Just…promise you'll hold on…no matter what happens._

_Promise me you won't give up._

XxX

Bucky screamed in agony as another current of electricity passed through his body. For a moment, he even thought he felt the pain in the space where his arm used to be. He'd lost count of the number of currents they'd passed through him and he'd long ago given up trying to hold back the screams. The release of it almost helped him to bear the pain…almost.

"Again," Zola's voice sounded from somewhere far away.

His battered body contorted against the straps that held him down. He would have vomited from the pain, except that he'd already given up even the acid in his stomach. He could still feel the burn of it on his tongue and in his throat, but that pain was only a minor, glancing thing.

"Again," the scientist's voice came again the moment his body had stopped jerking from the previous wave.

Once again, the current shot through his body. He no longer remembered how many hours…how many days. Always an endless litany of Zola's repeated 'again'…and every time he tore his throat raw screaming. It didn't matter, though. He didn't bother speaking to them. There was no point to it. He'd even given up on the resistance code that had been drilled into him. He only ever said one thing anymore.

"I promise."

XxX

… _promise you'll hold on…no matter what happens._

_Promise me you won't give up._

XxX

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that the fire and ice coursing through his veins were sensations caused by drugs, but that was a fact that was beginning to matter less and less to the soldier. It no longer mattered what was causing the pain. He only knew that he had to resist it…had to bear what they were doing to him…to survive…and to hold on to what they were trying to take away from him.

"Another dose, I think. Then we will see how he takes to the shock therapy."

The voice was different sometimes, but it was all Zola to him now. Zola…the face of his prison…of his torment…of his nightmares…and yet…it was the only face he remembered anymore…that and one other.

A face with laughing blue eyes and a bright, blinding smile…lips that were warm against his…and a voice that spoke his name with love…

_Steve._

This time when the fire began to burn through his veins, it felt like a thousand sharp needles were pricking every inch of his skin. His insides were being scooped out and replaced with molten lava. He wanted to scream, but couldn't make his mouth work. He was left to burn in silent agony. The face became hazy in his mind, but the words were just as sharp on his tongue when he was finally able to speak again.

"I promise."

XxX

… _promise you'll hold on…_

_Promise me you won't give up._

XxX

_He dreams he's back home…back with Steve…the one constant in his life._

_He dreams of when they were kids…running around the back alleys of Brooklyn…sharing a strawberry ice cream…always getting into trouble…scraped knees and bloody knuckles._

_He dreams of the time he licked the last bit of ice cream from Steve's nose…lingering a moment longer than maybe he should…eyes wandering down to Steve's lips…and admitting to himself that he wanted to know what it was like to kiss his best friend._

_He dreams of the time he actually did._

_It was raining – hard. They'd taken shelter down a somewhat protected alley because he just couldn't stand to hear the sound of Steve's hacking cough getting any worse. He wrapped his coat around Steve's trembling shoulders and held him close against the warmth of his own body. Only when he realized that the trembling was for a completely different reason and he looked down to meet his friend's intense gaze did he understand just how close they were. He couldn't help himself. He leaned down those last few inches and pressed his lips gently against Steve's…and the scrawny little punk returned with just as much force as he was able._

_It was wet and cold and Steve was sniffling and ultimately had to break away to cough, but it was still perfect…still beautiful…the most wonderful moment of his life…_

… _right up until the night the two of them went breathlessly into each other's arms, the fall onto their small, creaky bed happening so naturally he wondered that it hadn't happened before then._

_Even though it looked to the rest of the world like he was the one always saving Steve, Steve had saved his life more than he might ever know…and he somehow managed to do it again when it should have been impossible. Was there really hope it could happen again?_

_**Steve…I won't give up. I'll never stop fighting. I'll wait for the rest of my life if I have to. I promise.** _

"What do you love?"

"Steve Rogers."

"Really? Interesting. And…what do you _fear?_ "

"Losing him. Steve is…my life. I can't lose him."

"Interesting."

XxX

… _promise…_

_Promise me you won't give up._

XxX

The next time Bucky was drawn from the nightmares, it was to the realization of an even worse one.

He felt hideous pain in his left shoulder and when his unfocused gaze drifted downward, he saw hands putting finishing touches on a metal arm.

Slowly, he lifted the thing from the table, free of restraints for the first time in what felt like years. He couldn't feel the thing…and yet he somehow had control of it. He watched the metal fingers move with a sick sort of fascination. Just as slowly, he realized that the voices around him were panicking.

"Subject…awake…put him under-"

He didn't understand what was happening. The only thing he was truly aware of was someone coming toward him with a needle.

With an inhuman shriek, he lashed out and crushed the man's hand, causing him to drop the needle. Then he reached for his throat. It was easy to break his neck – easier than breaking a toothpick. He watched the man die, but it didn't quite connect in his mind that he'd killed him.

Before anyone else could come at him, he reached down to break the straps that still bound his legs. Free! _Finally free!_

" _Zola!_ " he screamed. " _Let me go!_ "

He jumped up from the table easily, making for the first door he caught sight of. Had to get out…had to escape.

But it wasn't going to happen. The moment his hand pressed against the door was also the moment he felt the prick of a dart in the back of his neck.

" _NO!_ " he shrieked as he pulled the cartridge from his skin, but it was already too late. The drug was spreading rapidly through his system. As he fell to his knees, he shoved the door open, finally collapsing half out into the corridor.

"No…no…Steve…" he whispered as he slowly lost his grip on consciousness. "I promise…I promise…I promise…" he kept on crying until the world went dark and he knew nothing more.

XxX

… _promise…_

… _you won't give up._

XxX

"Even after all these years, he's still fighting your control, Dr. Zola. When are you going to give up on this pet project? Clearly nothing you do will turn his heart away from what he once was."

"I fear I must disagree, Senator. I have recently discovered something in our hypnosis sessions…something that will _break_ him. Knowledge that will break his spirit and bind him to us forever."

XxX

… _you won't give up._

XxX

The next time Bucky woke from his sleep, he felt like he'd slept for years, but his surroundings didn't seem to have changed at all. It was the cell now, instead of the lab, surrounded by bare metal walls instead of white ones. It wasn't until he'd had a chance to fully wake up that Zola finally entered the cell.

"And how are we feeling this fine morning, soldier?"

Silence. He refused to do anything but stare at the scientist in silent rage.

"Of course, nothing to say, as usual. If it weren't for your ridiculous mantra, I would wonder if you even _could_ speak any longer. No drugs or tests today, I promise…but I do have some news that I daresay will get something out of you."

Bucky continued to stare. He very much doubted it.

"Steve Rogers is dead."

At first, he thought his ears must have stopped working. It had happened before. He'd become deaf to his own screams, to the things the scientists were saying they would do to him. Surely…surely he couldn't have heard something so awful.

"You heard me correctly, Barnes," Zola hissed in his face. "Steve Rogers is _dead. Dead!_ He's never coming back. You'll never see him again."

"I…I don't believe you," Bucky growled quietly, not looking at his tormentor. The words felt strange in his mouth…the first ones he'd spoken in a very long time apart from his vow.

"No? Perhaps you will believe his own words then," Zola said, sneering as he pulled some sort of recording device from his lab coat. The first sound to emit from it was a scratchy, badly recorded version of Steve's voice.

Steve's voice…it had been so long since he'd heard it…

" _Command, this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"_

" _Steve, is that you? Are you all right?"_ Peggy's frantic voice sounded from the device.

" _Peggy…Schmidt's dead."_

" _What about the plane?"_

" _That's a bit tougher to explain."_

What was happening? What was going on? What was Steve doing?

" _Give me your coordinates. I'll find you a safe landing site."_

" _There's not gonna be a safe landing…but I can try and force it down."_

"No," he hissed, grabbing at the bars of his cell, as if he could tear his way through to Zola, even through the device itself to reach Steve.

" _I'll get Howard on the line. He'll know what to do."_

" _There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I gotta put her in the water."_

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he shouted, shaking the bars. It did nothing. The horrible truth continued to play out in his ears.

" _Please don't do this. We have time. We can work it out."_

" _Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die."_

"No…please," Bucky begged, as if Steve could hear him. "Don't do this!"

" _Peggy…this is my choice,"_ Steve's voice came to him gently…but so full of pain. _"I_ _ **want**_ _this. I…I can't do it anymore, Peggy. It's my fault he's dead,"_ Steve said, conveying his meaning without actually saying the words.

It was in that moment that Bucky realized what was happening. Steve was in mourning for him. He thought he was dead…and he couldn't bear it…the same way Bucky knew he wouldn't be able to bear this. Whatever happened…it would be _his fault._

" _That…that's ridiculous. He'd kill me if I let you say that…but I…I understand. Just talk to me, Steve."_ Peggy had known about them. She had other tastes herself, so she and Steve had put on the show for everyone in order to keep the three of them safe…and now she was standing in for Bucky, being there for Steve in his final moments when he could not.

" _Peggy?"_

" _I'm here."_

" _I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."_

" _All right. A week, next Saturday."_

" _You got it."_

" _Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you_ _ **dare**_ _be late. Understood?"_

" _You know, I still don't know how to dance."_

" _I'll show you how. Just be there."_

"Steve… _please,_ " Bucky choked out, feeling tears trickle down his face as he fell to his knees, still clutching the bars in desperate hands. "I'm still here. I'm here for you. You can't just leave me like this!"

" _We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on-"_

The rest was static…except for Peggy's voice crying out, "Steve? _Steve?_ Steve?"

"Steve?" Bucky sobbed, tears pouring down his face faster than he had any hope of holding them back. " _Steve!_ "

"Now do you see, James?" Zola taunted as he knelt in front of him, just out of reach. "It is over. The love that you fought for no longer exists. He is _dead!_ "

At this, something inside of Bucky _broke._ He threw his head back and screamed, a sound of such utter torment and anguish it couldn't possibly have come from anything human. He wasn't even aware of the moment the bar finally tore free in his metal hand, nor did he fight when he felt a needle pierce his neck. All he could do was to go on screaming, tearing at his hair and skin until he couldn't make his arms work anymore. As he slowly collapsed back into the haze, he curled in on himself, trying to block out the world in any way he could.

"We will commence with the renewed shock treatments at once. I think you will find our soldier much more compliant now."

Bucky heard what Zola was saying…and he found he didn't care. There was no _reason_ left. It didn't _matter_ anymore. Steve was dead…Steve was dead…and he couldn't fight anymore. He couldn't bear it. Everything that had happened to him came crashing down on him in one single horrifying moment. All he wanted was for the pain to stop. He was perfectly willing to let them destroy him if it would make the hurt go away…if he didn't have to remember that he'd let Steve die.

_Steve…damn it…I know I promised I'd never give up…but I just can't take it anymore. If you aren't here…if I can't ever be with you again…there's no reason left for me to fight. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I hope you know I'll always love you…even if I don't exist anymore. I'm so sorry. I'm just not strong enough._

"I love you," he whispered before falling into darkness. It was his last moment as Bucky Barnes.

XxX

… _give up._

XxX

When next the soldier opened his eyes, they were dead. They gazed out at the world with nothing in them: no pain, no anger, no joy, no fear.

No love.

Zola surveyed his conquest with no small amount of pride. Barnes had fought for a long time – five years, in fact – but in the end, he had broken him. It didn't matter if Captain America would never know it, but this would be his ultimate vengeance against the super soldier – to turn his lover into HYDRA's ultimate weapon.

James Buchanan Barnes was gone. The Winter Soldier had taken his place.

XxX

"Bucky?"

The soldier had seen many expressions on the faces of his targets, but nothing like what he was seeing now. This man looked…shattered…as if seeing his face had broken something inside of him. A spark of confusion snapped into being at the soldier's core as he surveyed his mark. Confusion and…something else…something that had been buried so deep he hadn't even realized it was there.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he finally snapped at him, almost glad to see the other agents take the man down. He didn't want to admit it, but the name had stirred something in him. Who _was_ Bucky? Was it someone he'd killed? He didn't know. He tended not to know the names of his targets…but the name Bucky was still somehow familiar to him. Where had he heard it?

One of the handlers tried to herd him into another car, but he insisted on keeping close to the prisoners. He kept a knife trained on the captain as they were loaded into a truck.

"That's dangerous," he heard one of the men saying. "Pierce warned us about letting the asset get too close to Rogers."

"Y'know, I don't really care," Rumlow replied. "I almost _wanna_ see what happens."

Not knowing what any of it meant, the soldier shut it all out. He kept his focus fixed on the captain as the truck moved out.

_Who are you?_

"Bucky," the man repeated, that same shattered look in his eyes as he gazed at the soldier.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he demanded quietly, eyes narrowing.

"Because that's your _name,_ " he insisted, eyes pleading with him, _begging_ him to understand.

"I have no name," he said. He didn't need one, never had. It wasn't important. But this man…

"Yes, you do. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. We've known each other since before we could walk."

"Shut up!" he snapped at him, unable to keep his composure from slipping. Slowly, he shook his head, aiming his blade lazily at the captain. "This is just a trick…a game to distract me. I don't know you."

"Yes, you do. Bucky, _please._ You _have_ to know me."

He didn't want to give into it, but there was something so tangible about the heartbreak in the captain's eyes, the soldier found it tugging at his own heart. Something was happening inside of him and he didn't think he liked it.

"What are you doing to me?" he snarled at the man, moving across the truck in a single fluid motion and holding his blade to his neck. "Stop it!"

"Bucky-"

" _Don't call me that!_ " he shouted at him, digging the tip of the blade in just enough to draw a tiny trickle of blood. "I will _kill_ you."

"Steve!" the other man shouted, moving to interfere.

"Don't," the captain said, never taking his eyes away from the soldier's. "It'll be all right."

"Don't be too sure," the soldier warned him, ready to drive the knife in further.

"Buck…James… _please._ You _have_ to remember. This isn't you. _Remember who you are!_ "

_Steve…?_

For a moment, only a moment, his hand faltered, and before he could do anything, his target was _kissing_ him.

He should have killed him then. He really should have, but he found that he couldn't make his arm work. Instead, he faintly heard the blade clatter away as it fell from his hand, his arms falling uselessly at his sides. Rather than feel angry or insulted, though, he just felt shocked…because he _knew_ this. Somewhere deep inside, he _remembered_ this embrace. He knew these lips…warm…pressed so tenderly against his own…the name…spoken with all the love he had to give.

"Bucky," the captain whispered against his lips.

"Steve," he whispered back, not completely certain where the name came from, but it hardly mattered, for they were soon kissing again, lips locked forcefully together. The kiss tasted of blood and ash, but there was also something more beneath the taste of battle…a taste of comfort…of home. He didn't know he had ever felt those things before.

When he pulled away from the man yet again, he could see there were tears in his eyes. Several fell as he offered him a tender, heartbreaking smile.

"It's me," he said gently, not seeming to care who saw this moment. Not wholly able to help himself, the soldier reached out his hand, cupping the captain's cheek in his palm with more gentleness than he knew he had.

"Steve?" he whispered again, running a hesitant thumb along his bottom lip.

For a single bright, shining moment, he remembered…a kiss in the rain…making love to him…being pulled back from the edge of death…

_I love you._

…but then he remembered the pain.

The sudden onslaught of anguish and despair was like taking a knife through his heart…and then to have that heart carved out of his chest. He tore himself back from the captain with a cry of agony. Crumpling to the floor, he clutched at his head, screaming…crying out.

No. This couldn't be real. None of it!

_Just…promise you'll hold on…no matter what happens._

_Promise me you won't give up._

" _NOOO!_ " he screamed, violently bashing his own head against the floor.

"Bucky!" Steve cried out, trying to get down beside him, despite his bound hands.

" _Get away!_ " the soldier shrieked, throwing himself back against the far wall. "This isn't real! You can't be here! You're _dead!_ " he cried out. " _They told me you were dead!_ "

"Bucky, please, it's all right. Just listen to me."

But he couldn't do it. The pain it caused him was too much…the pain he'd run away from…that he'd let them _take_ from him…along with everything else.

"I gave up," he whispered in horror…and in the next moment, he was tearing his way out of the truck, out onto the street, and he was running. He didn't know where to. He knew only that he had to get away. This mangled scrap of memory was too much. The pain was too much. He couldn't bear to face it…this thing that had destroyed him.

XxX

"Get him back. No matter what it takes. He's too valuable to lose now. If we don't have him, we have nothing on Rogers. I don't care if you have to break every bone in his body. Just get him back here!"

XxX

They found him, of course. They always found him. They asked him why he'd run, but he could hardly explain it to himself, much less his masters. There was both joy and agony in the already fading memory. How could he ever hope to understand it?

"I knew him."

XxX

In the end, he was forced to face it…the pain that had destroyed him…had turned him away from everything he'd ever believed in…forced to face the fact that it was a lie…and that he would have killed Steve for a lie. So once again, he ran…and when Steve and Sam found him sitting in the old HYDRA cell what could have been weeks or even months later, he wasn't completely certain he'd eaten anything in that time.

He was sitting alone in the cell – the place where the Winter Soldier had been born – knees tucked up against his chest, curled up…closed off…as he had been on that awful day all those years ago. He heard them approaching, heard them speaking, but it was ultimately only Steve who came to sit beside him.

"They told me you were dead," he said quietly, not looking at his former lover.

"Yeah, well…for awhile there, I was. Everyone thought I was. I'd say being on ice for seventy years is about the closest you can come. I thought you were dead, too, Buck."

"You don't…understand," he fought to get the words out. "I _let_ this happen. When I thought I'd never see you again…I couldn't take it. It just hurt too damn much. I _let_ them erase me…because I didn't want to feel that pain for even a second longer. I fought for so long…but I gave up…even though I promised I wouldn't."

"Promised who?"

"You…myself…I don't know. Does it matter? I gave up…gave up on you…on _us._ "

"Was what I did any better? I didn't put that plane in the ice to be a hero. I did it because I was hurting just as much as you were. The thought of living without you…I couldn't handle it. We both ran away. There is no way I'm letting you take all the blame for this," he soothed, laying a hand on his shoulder.

" _They told me you were dead!_ " he cried out, flinching away from the touch. "What…could I do? There was nowhere to turn…in a world suddenly without you. I couldn't face it anymore. It was just too much!"

"It's all right," Steve said, reaching for him again. When he wrapped his arms around him this time, Bucky didn't fight. "I'm here now. I'm here for you. I won't let them hurt you anymore. I'll protect you."

_I'll never let you fall again._

"They told me you were dead!" Bucky continued to sob, clinging to Steve like he was the last solid thing in a world that was disappearing, and Steve just held him close, letting him cry, letting him purge seventy years' worth of heartbreak and despair against the leather of his jacket. He clung just as tightly to Bucky, reassuring himself in his own way…allowing himself to finally, truly believe that this was real and not just some cruel dream. While he hadn't endured the hideous tortures his lover had, he had mourned for him just as fiercely. This was just as much of a miracle for him – a miracle…and a reminder of his guilt…that he hadn't gone back for him…that he was just as responsible for what had happened to Bucky as Bucky felt for what had happened to him.

Once Bucky had cried all the tears that were in him, he found that he was exhausted, drained in a way he never had been when he was still the Winter Soldier. Unable to do anything else, he just fell asleep in Steve's arms, and Steve cradled him close as he slept, determined that no harm should ever come to him again.

"This isn't gonna be easy, y'know," Sam reminded the super soldier, seeming to appear from nowhere to wrap a blanket around the two of them.

"I know. I never thought it would be," Steve said softly as he brushed some of the long hair from Bucky's face. "But I don't care. He needs me…and I need him. I won't screw up this time," he finished, leaning down and pressing a loving kiss to Bucky's forehead.

_I'll keep you safe this time. I'll always come back for you. I promise._

Sam couldn't quite help the tiny smile that turned up the corners of his mouth as he looked at the two soldiers, watching over them just as surely as Steve watched over Bucky. They both had some very serious issues to work through, but now, here in this moment, the two warriors had finally found peace…a peace and redemption neither one had ever thought he could feel again. As Sam had said, it wasn't going to be easy, but as he watched Bucky rest peacefully while Steve kept watch he found himself thinking, for the first time since this fool quest of theirs had begun, that maybe everything would be all right.

Shaking his head, Sam got to his feet, giving Steve a light punch on the shoulder before heading out of the cell, leaving the two of them alone. He had done what he could and it wasn't his place to be here anymore. The two super soldiers were where they belonged now.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how this story compares to my other Cap stuff. Mostly I just wanted to write the scene where Zola told Bucky that Steve was dead. The rest of the story just sort of formed itself around that. I think maybe I enjoy breaking Bucky a little too much. Eheh. Well, either way, I hope you all enjoyed.


End file.
